Chapter 1
"You can have me, but you'll never get my heart." That was the icy, disdainful decree from my newly wedded wife, Julia Sinclair, as she lay there on our wedding night, refusing to look at me.
I chuckled, reached out to lift her beautiful chin, and gave her a cheeky, cocky smirk she'd never seen on me before. "I only want your body. Why would I want your heart?"
Her stunning eyes widened in sheer astonishment.
She never expected that I, Edward Grant, the guy who used to crawl at her feet, would talk back like that.
"Asshole!" she snapped.
The next second, I pinned her down.
She started to struggle. "No. Stop!"
Well, acting like some untouched saint, huh?
I didn't stop what I was doing.
Julia was my newlywed wife. Our marriage was a pure corporate arrangement, and she was the female lead in that love-hate romance novel I once read, the very woman who put me, the scumbag villain, through three years of hell.
In the story, Edward was so obsessed with her.
On their wedding night, she said the exact same thing, and Edward actually bought it.
He spent three years in a loveless marriage, watching her indulge in a sickening emotional affair with her first love, Charles Lawson, while he took it all and did nothing.
In the end, they teamed up to destroy his family and leave him to die like a pathetic dog.
When I read that, I was so pissed.
I went on a six-hour rant in the comment sections, flaming the author for writing trash, calling the male lead a loser, and ripping the heroine apart for being an idiot.
And then, the next day when I woke up, I somehow became Edward, the biggest fool in the story. And of course, the clock had rolled back to the exact moment of our wedding night.
Gazing at the gorgeous face inches from my own, and inhaling the faint scent of shower gel lingering in the air, I suddenly had a thought.
To hell with all that true love nonsense. I was the bad guy here, so I might as well play the part.
The only thing running through my head was that I wasn't about to make the same mistakes again.
Julia was still struggling, but it felt like nothing more than a kitten batting at air.
"Edward, are you crazy? Don't you dare lay a finger on me." Her voice shook, trembling with fear and disbelief.
I leaned in, letting a warm breath brush right against her ear. "Try me."
The sound of ripping fabric cut through the silence.
She gasped, freezing rigid on the spot.
"This isn't you. You weren't like this before," Julia said, almost crying.
'Of course not. That guy was a total pushover, but now? I was calling the shots.
I couldn't be bothered to say more.
Actions always spoke louder than words.
As my lips brushed against her collarbone, a violent shudder rippled through her body as if she had been struck by a current.
She tried to push me away, but her hands were limp. "Don't. Please."
Under the weight of absolute dominance, her usual arrogance and coldness began to shatter.
Now she wanna beg, huh? Too late.
I didn't feel a shred of pity.
Why should I feel sorry for a woman who was about to cheat on me for three years and then finish me off?
The only thing I was going to do was give her a head start on what marriage meant.
A sharp, muffled gasp escaped her lips as she bit down hard on her lower lip. A tear rolled down her cheek.
However, what really threw me off was the blood on the sheet.
Seriously? The book never mentioned she was a virgin.
In the original story, she and Charles were supposed to be soulmates, crazy about each other.
I had always assumed they had shared countless nights together by this point in the narrative.
Julia seemed to notice my hesitation. She shut her eyes in humiliation, tears streaming down her face harder. "Happy now? You rapist."
Her voice dripped with hatred.
I paused for a split second, then started laughing so hard that my chest shook. "Yeah. Couldn't be happier."
I grabbed her chin, forcing her to look me in the eye. "Julia, remember this. From now on, you're mine. I don't give a damn who you truly love, because I have every part of you now.
"And that pretty boy Charles? If I ever catch you messing around with him—"
I paused, leaning close to her ears and dropping my voice to a whisper meant only for the two of us. "I will make both you and him vanish from this world."
Her eyes went wide with shock, and she trembled even more violently. It was driven not by arousal, but by sheer terror.
She saw in my eyes a coldness and resolve she'd never imagined before.
That wasn't a threat. It was a prophecy.
That whole night went from her fighting me tooth and nail at first, to barely being able to take it halfway through, and ending up completely checked out by the end of it.
And me? It felt as though I were collecting three years' worth of debts all at once in a cathartic release.
It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that the room finally fell silent.
Julia was curled up on the far side of the bed, bundled up tight in the blanket, her eyes red and puffy from crying as she glared at me with nothing but hatred.
I leaned back against the headboard, lit up a cigarette, and blew smoke rings lazily toward the ceiling.
She's got some fire in her, but she ran out of steam way too fast.
Right then, the phone on the nightstand started buzzing.
The screen lit up, showing a name.
Charles Lawson.
Well, speak of the devil.
A wicked grin spread across my face.
Game on. The real story was finally kicking into gear.